House's Journal
by DAzebras
Summary: House's personal account of his everyday adventures.As of late, Wilson has been acting oddly, and it is up to his best friend to find out why, despite Wilson's admirable attempts at secrecy. May be H/W slash later, but right now it's all crazy friendship
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:**This whole fic is dedicated to the wonderful H of Momosportif, who faithfully reads and adores this even though she has never watched the show. Thanks, Love, for helping me type my stuffs. I will write more eventually, so keep up your encouragement read: badgering. It helps._

_**Disclaimer**: Wilson's leaving. Chances are that I don't own House, M.D. Then again, House hired a PI, so you never know. Series belongs to Shore Productions, Bad Hat Harry, Heel and Toe, and some other people whom I can't seem to remember. It must be a symptom of repression._

_**Rating:** T, for language and House's own brand of humor._

_**Pairing:** None for a while, but Wilson may get some action in ater chapters. That remains to be seen._

_**Summary:**Simply put, House's journal. Don't worry slash-haters. There's no mention of homosexuality until chapter 5, and no actual relations as of chapter 10 which is how far I've written as of 9/20/08. Warnings will be posted when the time comes._

* * *

Another uneventful day. Pain levels were moderate—about 6. Still no case. Cuddy wore that low-cut, red sweater of hers, the clingy one. Didn't get a chance to comment on it before she shipped me off to the clinic. Such is the price of having no patient. No interesting morons today, just the usual cold and flu crew.

-H

* * *

Pain levels average 7 today. Wilson was supposed to come over for pizza and beer later tonight we were going to watch that new _Hopkins_ show and laugh at their stupidity and inaccuracy, but he stopped by before he left work and said he couldn't make it. He has a new girlfriend he doesn't want me to know about it. Must remember to look through his office tomorrow. Maybe I can get a hold of his phone records. Still no case.

-H

* * *

Wilson came in late today. Cuddy asked me about it when she came to deliver a new case. Obviously neurologically related, but I'm desperate for anything at this point. I had come in a bit earlier than usual because I couldn't sleep leg pain finally caught up with me. But still, that's pretty bad for Saint Jimmy. I grilled him about it later, but he refused to answer it, and then threw me out because he had almost missed an appointment with one of those cancer kiddies. I didn't get a chance to search his office today. He must know I'm on to him since he locked both his doors when he left. He hardly ever does that, and it's never a good sign when he does. Very suspicious. I need to keep a close eye on him. Pain levels 6.

-H

* * *

Pain levels 7—must be stress related. Foreman said it's not neurological after we did an MRI. Went down to the ER and asked Cameron. She thinks it could be an opportunistic infection. I'm not convinced. At home now waiting for Taub to call with the AIDS test results. It's not Kaposi's. I already double checked with Wilson on the cancer front. As for Wonder Boy, I didn't find much hen I searched his office this afternoon when I was supposed to be in the clinic. I had Kutner page him for an urgent consult so he didn't have time to lock up. I did, however, find a date circled in his appointment book along with a time and restaurant. If I question him outright, he'll deny it and claim he's meeting a patient for dinner. Yeah, right. Oh, well. I guess I have no choice but to "coincidentally" show up to eat at the same place. Notes to self: diagnose crazy broad, surprise Wilson on his date, and prepare a list of suggestive comments to make next time Cuddy wears that black sequin skirt.

-H

_**A/N: **More to come. As stated above, I have much more written, but I may require vicious notes to force myself to type the buggers. I hate keyboards. Therefore, review! Constructive criticism and suggestions are always welcome, but please also bother me about updates if it the absence extends for more than two weeks. Seriously. Do it. Just refrain from bomb threats._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** This chapter in particular is dedicated to **passionfornight** who graciously gave me my first review. Special thanks also to **callietitan** who gave a wonderful second review and did exactly as I asked in encouraging berating me. Sort chapter this time around. Sorry, peeps.

* * *

Pain levels 6, relatively normal. Having something to do helps with distraction. Tomorrow's Wilson's date. I looked up the restaurant online and found out it's some little Italian place a couple miles away from Wilson's new apartment. I hope it's like a family version of Olive Garden. I like their chicken parmesan. Of course, that probably means I won't be able to wear my work clothes. Well, I might be able to wear my jacket, and I could wear a button down if I leave out the T-shirt… I hate to admit it, but I'm actually excited about this. I haven't surprised Wilson at an upscale restaurant since Amber. I've showed up to a couple of his lunch dates, but that's it. Right now I'm debating between planning what to say and just winging it. I'm leaning to the latter. My best work is always improvised.

Solved the case today. Turned out to be boring, so I won't go into the details. I knew it had a simple answer when I took the case. Let's just say Big Momma will be shipped out healthy and happy by the end of the week. Foreman's acting cocky today. I'm not sure the others can tell, but he has this annoyingly smug air about him. It just _billows_ from him, with his black nose stuck in his precious little crossword puzzle.

Hey, look at that. It seems I'm getting better at this whole journal writing thing. Wilson was bugging me a couple of months ago to start a record of my day. He said I should put down differential ideas What do you think the white board is for? and pain levels and that it might relieve some stress. Whatever. If journal writing relieved stress, there'd be no market for antidepressants and prescription narcotics. He also told me I could be as mean as I wanted since no one would ever read it. Little twit. Of course people are going to read this, if they ever find it. _Everyone_ wants to take a peek at _House's_ diary. Note to self: Buy some broccoli to replace Wilson's lunch with, so he won't get mad at you for leaving him with no food. Brussels sprouts are even better. Or an eggplant.

-H


	3. Chapter 3

**Author Notes**: Thank you for being patient. Sorry about the delay. I could have sworn I had already stuck the second chapter up here. Guess not. Special thanks to **JessieK1119** who reviewed and to **Delu**, **BertieTiger**, **cherulabelle**, l**imptulip**, **mokipuppy**, and **Eryaforsthye,** all of whom have + alerted me in some fashion.

I took the liberty of saying that Wilson's unnamed brother is married, of which there is no proof at this moment. Oh, well.

I haven't really written much more past chapter nine or ten. [I've been writing other House stuff though.] I think I'm finally ready to admit writer's block, even though it's really more of lack of motivation and inspiration. So I'll try to get it up here soon in hopes that you guys can help with ideas. Momo, since you read this regularly, I'm open to suggestions as to where you think it should go. Should I do anything more with the three constants?

* * *

Wilson's pissed at me. Turned out that it wasn't a date after all. Instead he was having dinner with his parents and pregnant sister-in-law [and, boy, was she pregnant]. It seems he had told them I wasn't able to make it tonight. Thus, he didn't want me to show if he lied to his parents when they invited me. The Wilsons love me, especially Mama Wilson. He's always paranoid when I hang out with his parents. Worry wart. I even make a point _not_ to make any Jewish jokes around them. His sister-in-law doesn't like me, though. That might be because I insisted that I had seen her in an adult film one too many times. The company might have had something to do with why Wilson declined my invitation for me. Apparently they had serious things to talk about, like nursery wallpaper and blanket colors.

Hold on a second. Wilson's found me.

Okay, I'm back. I had to let him in or he wofuld have broken down my door. The moron could have just used his key but _no_. He had to bang on my front door and disturb the neighbors. I decided to answer it before Mrs. McKinley came out with her broom. I should have just left him.

I've decided to tell the rest of the evening's events in third person. It'll probably be more interesting that way. So here it goes:

Gregory House entered the homey, yet upscale Italian restaurant, looking drop-dead sexy in his rarely worn slacks. He was about fifteen minutes later than the set time, but that was on purpose. He strolled up to the hostess desk with an easy rolling gait, completely relaxed with the situation. He leaned on the desk in a falsely amicably way.

'I believe my friends are already here," he addressed the young blond girl who was wearing a saddeningly long black skirt and prim white shirt. He inwardly cursed the designers of restaurant. "It should be under 'Wilson.'"

She checked her list, nodded once, and escorted him to a round table in the corner. At least the skirt hugged her backside nicely. House looked on at the gathering before him with surprise, but that was nothing to the shock that was present on Wilson's face.

"H-House!" he stammered.

"Well hello there, Wilson." The man in question nodded in greeting to the others at the table. "Mr. Wilson. Mrs. Wilson. _Tina. _Fancy seeing you here."

"What are you doing here, House?" It was deliciously entertaining to watch the young oncologist squirm.

"Since you said you wouldn't be able to hang out tonight, I thought I'd go out to eat for a change of pace. I figured you were probably out with one of your new girlfriends." House was lying through my teeth, and he could tell, but they didn't need to know that.

"What are you talking about?" his mother asks, as confused as a woolly worm addressed with a pair of sheep sheers. Yeah, very confused. About as confused as you are now. "Jimmy, you said that House couldn't come to dinner with us. You said he had a meeting with someone tonight."

"Yeah, Jimmy. What's up with that?" he asked sarcastically. "Why didn't you tell me your parents were in town? I could have cancelled that _meeting_ I had."

Mrs. Wilson frowned, and Tina Wilson's scowl deepened. That woman has such a bad temper.

"Well, if you're here by yourself, why don't you join us?" Mr. Wilson suggested. "We have a couple of empty chairs."

"Thanks!" House exclaimed brightly and claimed between Wilson and his mother. "How are you, Tina? Is the career suffering with the rugrat on the way?"

She glared at him. If she were Superman's spawn, House would have third degree burns all over his body, and his hair would be more than a little bit singed. Thankfully, she's not. As it was, she didn't deem our handsome doctor worthy of an answer.

Mrs. Wilson asked affectionately, "How have you been, dear?"

"Oh, I've been good," He said innocently. "I solved my only case yesterday. I don't know what meeting Wilson was talking about. I guess my team is taking care of it."

Wilson looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and die. "Cuddy said she had someone from another hospital she wanted you to meet."

"Oh, that little minx. She should know better than to try to keep me from my Wilson family gathering."

The waitress came by and the party of five placed their orders. Gregory House got a medium ten ounce sirloin, which turned out to be delicious, thank you very much. The group—well, House and Wilson's parents—continued to chat amicably over dinner and dessert.

Okay, I'm bored with that now. Basically I teased Wilson for not being able to keep a girlfriend or wife and just may have mentioned something about his infidelity. Apparently his parents didn't know about that part of his divorces. Which is why he's pissed at me and tried to break into my house. I had to let him in, pretend to listen to him lecture about not embarrassing him in front of his parents, and then I kicked him out, which may or may not have involved the violent use of my cane.

On another note, I believe that Wilson has something to talk to his parents about that he doesn't want me to hear. This idea springs from the conversation we had over dinner where Mrs. Wilson asked what it was that Wilson needed to talk about that was so important that he had to say it face to face, and then he pointedly avoided the question by saying he would "tell her later." Thus, I have another puzzle to solve. Oh, goodie. I've got to go now. _General Hospital Night Shift_ is on. Pain levels 5—excellent.

-H

* * *

Wilson sucks ass. Pain levels 7.

-H


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes:** Wow, three chapters submitted in one day. I think that's a personal record. I'm going to leave off here or a bit, because I want everyone to guess what happens next. [I may type more tonight but not submit it.] None of the predictions have to be serious; you can give me something completely out there if you so desire. I just want to see how obvious I've made it and what crazy ideas with which you can come up. Momo, only S gets to guess; H, you already know what happens. And thank you to **Delu** who reviewed soopa fast**.**

* * *

He won't tell me anything. Cuddy's a bitch. Pain levels 7.

-H

Wilson came over tonight. He's passed out on the living room couch right now. He dropped by last night. [I think he was trying to avoid being found by Tina.] I attempted to get him drunk in hopes that he would spill the beans about a) his girlfriend and b) what he wanted to talk to hi parents about that he couldn't say in front of me. I got nothing. Whatever it is, it pertains to me. It's either something that's directly about me or it's something he doesn't want me to know because I'll mock him or blackmail him or harass whomever it's about. I tried to get him to talk, but he got all defensive, and we almost had a fight. I managed to pacify him with me awesome manipulative skills at playing the pathetic, unloved, emotionally crippled old man. He eats it up.

Still, it must be something important if he's willing to fight about it, if his defense mechanism kicks in. Part of me knows that that I should lay off; he'll tell me if he wants me to know. Another part of me is well aware that this is a moot point. I'm never going to do it. It's not my nature. I am physically unable to let it go, no matter how much Wilson would like me to, which is why he hid it from me in the first place. He's avoided me for the last couple of days. Not in the same way he does when he's mad at me, which in itself shows that he understands why I'm bugging him. Instead he avoids having lunch with me most of the time under the guise of having too much paperwork and makes his excuses when I start interrogating him.

It's late now. Wilson kicked me out of the living room around midnight so he could get some sleep. I'll go check on him and get some water and then turn in myself. Pain levels 6—pretty normal.

-H

Wilson told mm tonight. Don't want to talk about it right now. Had a fight. Write more in the morning when my brain can process it. Pain levels 7.

-H


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note**: I want to make some corrections to my earlier chapter--House takes his steak medium-rare, not whatever it is I said. I beg your pardon. Also, some typos were made in the last chapter; I will not be going back to fix those. I already fixed chapter three and screwed a bunch of stuff up before getting it right. Plus, why is it that all my House stories involve some form of alcohol? All of them!

Also, thank you very much to **Pumpie2**, **AussieAngst**, and **fabio the sexy** who have newly faved/alerted me. And thanks again to all those who reviewed: **JessieK1119 **was new, I believe. **BertieTiger, **you were very close, see? Yes,Delu, poor Wilson indeed.

**Warnings**: Remember those precautions I gave in the first chapter? Well, here they come into play. There is mention of 'alternative lifestyles', so if you are overtly religious, move on. Then again, why do you even watch House? Fear not, there is no actual slash or anything of that nature. Proceed.

* * *

Wilson's mad at me. Says I'm an insensitive jerk. Not going to work this morning. Write more this evening. Pain levels 7.

Last night, Wilson stopped by. It was raining, and his dark hair was matted to his forehead. He didn't use his key; he knocked, instead. I was surprised to see him since he had been avoiding me as of late. I stepped out of the way to allow him entrance into my apartment. The mood was quiet, and I knew not to break the silence by making some joke about him looking like a drowned rat or a comment about how unexpected the visit was. He stopped just inside the door and did not continue to the couch or the kitchen or the bathroom as he usually did. He looked as if he were marching to his own hanging.

"You wanted to know what I told my parents?"

I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He wasn't drunk but had had enough liquid courage to make him a little unsteady on his feet.

"Do you want a beer?" I didn't actually think he needed anything more to drink; I was just stalling for time. With the abnormal way he was acting, I was starting to dread learning his secret. Not that that would change anything.

"House." There was the faintest slurring in his words. "You want to know."

I fidgeted with the handle of my cane. His forceful and bare-all manner had caught me off guard. "Yeah."

"I told my parents that I'm gay."

I'm not often speechless. In fact I can remember only three times before this: the first time my father hit me, the first time I had sex, and the first time I lost a patient. I was speechless now.

I opened my mouth but could not find any words. I closed it. Finally, I got my jaw back in sync with my brain and uttered a single, intelligent, "Huh?"

He repeated himself, "I'm gay, House."

I blinked at him for a moment then burst out laughing. "What?! Jimmy Wilson, Panty Peeler Extraordinaire is _gay_? That's _great_!"

"House, can you be serious for just a minute? I'm trying to tell you something important."

"Three marriages and thirty-nine years and now you decide that you're a fruit cake? Jeez, Wilson. It doesn't get much better than this!"

"Stop laughing at me," he demanded. "It took me awhile to figure it out, okay? And then I was in denial. This is really hard for me to say, so stop laughing!"

"I could have told you that you were gay the first time I caught you blow drying your hair! In fact, I think I _did_. Hey, next time you come over should we watch _The Baby Sitters' Club _and paint our toenails? I would suggest we do that now, but I only have red polish, and everyone know only hookers wear red."

And then he called me an insensitive bastard, among other things. And then he slammed the door in my face. And then he left.

I accepted my own offer for a beer or two or three. I finally rolled into bed about two A.M. but had trouble sleeping. My leg pain was bothering me.

Cuddy beeped me several times this morning. I ignored them all. She called twice, and I answered the second time to tell her I was calling in sick. Apparently Wilson came to work in a huff this morning, a bit late, as he often does when we're fighting. She told me to suck it up but didn't try to drag me to work. I spent the morning in bed and then played the piano while I tried to sort this all out. I'm tired. Pain levels still 7.

-H


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**: Shortish chapter for now. I figured it was about time to update. Thank you to my new Alert-ers: **arkennes**, **bastess**, **Rerry**, and **xguitarplayerxx**. Also, a special thanks to my new Fave-ers: **FreeFromDreamer**, **DamnedReaper**, and **prettilitTLepoison**. And again to **mokipuppy**, **DejiDenja**, and **BertieTiger** for the lovely reviews.

**fabio the sexy**: Thank you very much. I do try. I think Wilson has his reasons. House wouldn't be my first choice to tell. Though I'm sure he would have rather shared with _someone_ before his parents, House is not ideal.

**Myra2003: **I'm glad you've enjoyed the series so muc. You always have such wonderful praise to bestow; it spoils me. As for your question, you and **prettilitTLepoison** will have to wait and see where it goes. Do you want him to have a "thing"? There's none written in yet, but... It makes me so happy to hear that I've manage to keep them both in character. Wilson always worries me, though I seem to be writing more and more from his POV lately. Thing is, I'm not fond of te man and I'm constntly afraid that it will show in my writing. Apparently it hasn't so far. Ah, well.

TTFN.

* * *

Things were decidedly awkward today. Cuddy forced me into extra clinic duty this afternoon. Wilson's avoiding me even more now. This time around it's the angry avoidance. Now that I've thought about it, I can understand why he's pissed. He's upset because I made fun of him when he was trying to tell me something important to him. Still, he decides _now_ that he's a member of the Rainbow Brigade? I guess it's better late than never.

But why in front of _Tina_?

I should buy him some chocolate. Not anything from the vending machines. That'll just make him angrier. He likes that fancy Canadian chocolate. They have O'Henries up there, right? Can you find those in a gas station? I don't have time to drive all the way up to the border. Maybe I'll just buy him a Godiva bar.

Oh, right. New case. I picked it up in the clinic this morning. Lots of mysterious bruising. The nurses [namely Brenda the Beast] think it is child abuse, which it's obviously _not_. I'm hoping it's leukemia. Then again, that would be pretty boring. Pain levels 6.

-H

* * *

Duh, duh, duuuh! Who's the master at abating Jimmy Wilson's anger? Me! Wilson liked hiss chocolate bar which I threw on his desk before he could yell at me to get out. He even smiled at me later this afternoon. Good thing I didn't get him those rainbow toe-socks to go along with it.

Got a consult from him on my own rainbow-colored kid. He says it's not any type of cancer. So we're back to square one. Taub and Kutner keep saying that she's not a real patient and that we need to stick her in DCS. Bunch of morons. Foreman's probably seen stuff like that back in the 'Hood. He knows there's actually something wrong with the kid. As far as Thirteen, she's elected to abstain from sharing her opinion.

I'm done for the night. Maybe I'll ask Wilson over for pizza and movies tomorrow. Do gay guys like _Star Wars_? I think Wilson does. At least he seemed to. Has he been checking out Harrison Ford this whole time? Ah, screw it. Pain levels 5.

-H


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**: Thank you to **Delu** for being a dear and commenting again. I will hopefully be submitting more soon, as I will be hiring a friend [who I will pay in cookies] to type for me. Yay.

* * *

Wilson's staring at me funny right now. He rolled his eyes when I glared at him. Ah, it speaks. I shall try to record the conversation exactly as it takes place. Bear with me; I fear it will be most difficult.

"Hold on. Say that again. I need to write it down."

"What?"

"No. Say what you said before."

"I said, 'I see that you're using your journal?'"

"Yeah, something like that."

"What are you doing?"

I pause here to blink at him.

"Are you observing me?"

"Now, why would you say that?'

"Because you're writing down everything I say, and you keep looking at me furtively."

"I look furtive?"

"That or sneaky. Take your pick."

"I prefer 'diabolical.'"

"Right. What are you doing?"

"Writing in my journal. _Duh_."

"I'm not a newly discovered species. You don't have to document my every move."

"Sure you are. I've never met gay Jewish oncologist with three ex-wives out in the wild. For all I know, you could be the only one of your kind."

"Oh, give it a rest."

"What?"

"I thought we were over you making fun of my sexuality."

"Pshaw! Why in the world would I do that?"

"Because you're my friend, and you're supposed to support me?"

"And I've done that when?"

"You know what? I give up."

"I win. Now go get me another beer."

-H

So Wilson doesn't have a girlfriend. Does that mean he has a boyfriend? He was being very sneaky before his dinner with his parents. He skipped pizza and movie night, and then he came in late one morning. Is he shacking up with some dude? Ugh. Bad image. I do need to know. I've got to make sure this guy isn't going to screw him over instead of just screwing him. I'll ask him tomorrow. Pain levels 6.

-H


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** I want to start by apologizing to **annabelleaurelius**, who had actually alerted me prior to the last chapter. Thank you very much. Thanks also to **kendra77 **and for the alerts/fave. I must say that I agree with you on some of those points, nefertiri--especially the idea that Wilson should forever stay away from marriage. **Mokipuppy**, it was wonderful to hear from you again. I am glad you're so excited! I'm sorry I've made all of you wait so long; I've actually had this typed since Monday, but couldn't get at a computer until now. Still, two chapters this week! Yippee! More will probably show up this weekend.

* * *

About two o'clock, I barged into Wilson's office and plopped down into the chair across from him.

"Boyfriend. Spill."

He looked up from the patient chart he was filling out. "Excuse me?"

"You don't have a girlfriend, but you're still getting some, which means that you must have a boyfriend. So talk."

"What makes you think I'm getting any?"

I rolled my eyes. "You came in late that one day last week. And you skipped out on pizza and movies the night before."

"House, I came in late because I had to pick up my parents from the airport. And I skipped out on movie night because I had to clean up my apartment."

"Bullshit. You're apartment is already clean, and your parents drove here. I saw their car in the parking lot at that Italian place."

He crossed his arms indignantly. "Alright, fine. I overslept, okay? Is that such a big deal?"

"Only if you're oversleeping in someone else's bed."

"I don't have a boyfriend!"

"Could you say that a little louder? I don't think the nurses in Pediatrics heard you."

"House—"

"Just tell me who he is. Do I know him? I won't bother him. I'll simply observe him from afar."

"I told you, I'm not dating anyone."

"Fling, then. Lover. One night stand. Bum buddy. Take you're pick."

He sighed. "I'm not sleeping with anyone. I was just flustered last week, because I was worried about talking to my parents."

"So like a gay man to be flustered."

"Shut up, House."

I knew I wouldn't get any answers from him then. I stood and walked to the door before turning back. "Alright, but I'll know if you're lying."

"I don't doubt it."

Okay, I'm about done with dialogue accounts. It's getting too repetitive. Who knew people just said the same thing over and over again? Case still ongoing. I swear it'll turn out to be leukemia. It'll probably be centered in her elbow or something equally abnormal. Pain levels 6.

-H


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N**: Thanks, **Delu**, for giving me your opinion. Thanks to you, there will be one more chapter after this. Besides that, I don't have any more written and need reader inspiration. See below for info.

Thank you, **mokipuppy** and **annabelleaurelius**, for reviewing along with **housemdcrazy**. Thank you also to those who faved/alerted me: **housemdcrazy**, **Myene**, and did I already get **kendra77**?

In addition, there will soon be some more _House, MD_ stories from me arriving, including a chapter series and a series of one-shots. Which would you like to see first? Either review or vote on the poll in my profile.

* * *

Why doesn't Wilson have a boyfriend? Does he not want one? It can't be because he can't nab himself a hottie with a body. Wilson's a pretty desirable guy, right? He's never had any trouble finding himself a woman to keep company. There are a couple of gay guys over in endocrinology. Of course, they're total queens. I just can't see Wilson with a flamboyant queer. They don't' even act like real women. I don't think he'd go for the effeminate type. What type of guy _does_ Wilson like?

More importantly, why the hell am I thinking about it?

My best friend turns out to be a fruitcake. So what? I don't need to spend to spend my whole day thinking about it. Jeez, Self. Way to have a one track mind.

It's not that I don't know why it's mothering me. My brain's still trying to wrap itself around the concept of Jimbo doing the horizontal shuffle with other guys. Typically when I stumble across a puzzle or abnormality, my brain functions on overdrive until I'm able to process it. I'd thought I had Wilson all figured out, but it turned out I didn't. And _that's_what bothers me. He went and threw me a curveball when I'd thought I'd identified all his pitches. Ha! Curveball! As opposed to one straight over the plate! Oh, man. That was good.

I should fix him up with someone. He'd probably hate that. Oh, well. Too bad, so sad. He knows and I know he can't stay unattached for long. It's just not possible for him. Poor, little Jimmy just has no power of restraint. Pain levels 6.

-H

I've found several possible candidates to be Wilson's boyfriend. First we have Robert Smith [could you have a more boring name?], age forty-four, dirty-blond hair with brown eyes [him, not his hair], a banker. Then there's William Fallows, age thirty-five, short with brown hair and glasses, a successful lawyer. And finally, there's Reese Livingston, age thirty-six, real hair color unknown but right now it's dyed black, a set designer for my second favorite soap opera. I narrowed it down to these three, but I do have a list of backup suggestions.

I compiled a variety of different personalities. Smith has a stable home and enjoys routine as much as Wilson does. He's been married once before and has a teenage daughter who lives with her mother. Fallows seems spunky and has been described by the papers as being so energetic in the courtroom that you forget how vertically challenged he is. I figured he'd be good for to have some fun and experiment with. Then there's Livingston. Truth is he's only on the list because I want inside information about upcoming episodes. He's a flamer, that one. Thought I'd at least let Wilson have the option.

Now all that's left is to show them to Wilson. Pain levels 5.

-H

* * *

**A/N**: So guys, one more chapter, and then I'm stuck. Should Wilson go out with any of these guys? Which one?


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Here's the usual thanks: Alerts/Faves- **Psycho Pikachu**, **cindy19912003**, **ItsNevrLupus**, and **housemdnutter**.

Comments- Thanks as always, **mokipuppy**. I don't really know the answer to your question as to why Wilson lied. This story kind of writes itself. I think it might have been because he was avoiding House? Possibly? We'll see. Thanks for your vote, **Delu**. I wish he would slap House. Alas, he to still too masculine. And thank you to you, **annabelleaurelius.** I'm thinking of taking that route.

Important_- _Last chapter I asked you guys to vote for which of the three guys, if any, Wilson should go out with. This is still on going until I write the next chapter. That's right! This officially the last chapter I have written as of yet. Do you know what that means? I need your input on where I should take this next. You can start by voting. Thanks guys!

* * *

Wilson's mad at me again. Apparently he didn't take too kindly to my "meddling' in his personal life. He didn't appreciate me trying to set him up on a blind date. It's a shame too. I kind of liked that Fallows kid. Should I record the conversation? I think I will. I won't write it in third person, but I'll try my best to do a better job of including things other than straight dialogue.

It was approximately 1:06 when I barged into Wilson's office. I say "approximately" because I have no idea what time it was, just that it was after one. I threw open the door without knocking and flopped down in one of the chairs across the desk from him.

"Yes, House?" He raised an eyebrow as he glanced at me from where he was positioned in front of the computer screen.

I decided it would be best if I just launched into my discussion rather than beating around the bush. "I found you a boyfriend."

He looked like a fish for a few seconds. "Pardon?"

Ah, one of the few mannerisms that he still retains from his college days in Canada that I had yet to rid him of. Although I will admit that this one is slightly cute when coupled with the idiotic gaping look h often has. Cute in the "I-want-to-poke-you-in-the-ribs-with-my-cane-and-hurry-away-cackling-evily" way. "I found you a boyfriend. Or three, if you want to go ahead and skip the whole monogamous thing and go straight to cheating.

"What are you talking about?"

I laid the profiles of my three chosen ones I had printed off from the dating website I had been browsing the last couple of days. "Pick one. I've talked to all of them already, and I volunteer to do background checks if you want. Their phone numbers are somewhere towards the bottom."

"Let me get this straight." [Ha! Sorry, Wilson, but you can't!] "You're trying to set me up on a blind dte with some guy you looked up on an Internet dating service?"

"Guys! Plural. I'm letting you choose which one."

"Oh, you're_ letting_ me choose whom I go out with?"

"Yes. I thought you'd like to have some semblance of control over your life."

Then his lips tightened into a thin line, and his face became slightly flushed. "House, you do not control my life!"

"Are you sure about that?"

"_Yes_! Now stop meddling in my love life! I am perfectly capable of finding myself a boyfriend. I don't need your help!"

"Could have fooled me. You really must not be getting any if you're this pissy."

"You know what? If you're going to be a bastard about it, you can get out! Now, leave me alone!"

See, I told you people say the same things over and over again. Pain levels 6, but leaning towards 5—decent.

-H


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Wow. So, new stuff from me. Unlike my other chapters, this hasn't been sitting in my notebook for months, just a couple of days. Due to popular demand, Wilson will be going out with one of the three candidates sometime in the near future [see below]. Now then, I have some important notes on this chapter. There's a middle section in the second entry with mixed up grammar. I did this _on purpose_. House attempts to write in third person in order to psycologically distance himself from the event, but he doesn't do a good job of it. It just shows how confused he is about what he wants. [If you took that statement as a hint that House and Wilson will eventually end up together, you might be right. I'm looking at you, **Lady Merlin **and** mokipuppy** [I think].

Thank you, **noisystar**, for all your wonderful reviews! I was so happy to see that you reviewed for many chapters, not just the last one published [like I tend to do]. I's always great to have new readers. Also, thank you for the fave/alert. Same for you, Lady Merlin. As always, thanks to my reviewers: **Delu **[I think his pain decreases as his amuseent increases, or rather, he just doesn't pay as much attention to it], , **DayDreamer221, **and whomever else I'm forgetting.

_It's self pimpage time! Go check out my new story, "Full House". [Thanks to **annabellaurelius **who has already alerted it.] It is a series of oneshots at various points in House and Wilson's lives. The first is an alternate version of their first meeting [cuz I wrote it before "Birthmarks," and I like mine better.] _ON WITH THE STORY!

* * *

I'm a bastard. So what? It's not like he doesn't know that. You'd think he'd learn to expect that kind of thing from me. Pain levels 7.

-H

Cuddy actually kicked me out of the clinic today. Of course, I wasn't doing much of anything in there anyway. If you must know, I was trying to take a nap. She accused me of moping—which I'm not—and sent me back to my office with a new case. [I solved the other one a couple days ago. Here's the synopsis: I was right, they were wrong. Turned out the bruising was from the girl walking into things when she was sleepwalking.]

I don't usually write in this thing at work, but I'm so damn _bored_. There's nothing to do. Thirteen and Kutner have the patient in the MRI, while my other two minions are checking out his apartment. I can't go bug Wilson 'cause he's still mad at me. I'm not hungry. I'm not even really sleepy. _It's boring_. I wish that—

Oooh! Speak of the devil, here comes Wilson. I wonder what he wants. More later. Pain levels 6.

Wilson poked his head into my office, his signature apologetic grin plastered on his face. "Hey, can we talk?"

House tossed his per onto his desk and shut the leather-bound notebook he had been writing in before shoving it inside a desk drawer. "Depends. What are we going to talk about?"

Apparently taking that as his cue to start spouting whatever nonsense he had come there to say, Wilson entered the office and seated himself across the desk from the object of his constant annoyance before speaking. "I'm sorry."

I was honestly surprised. I had been expecting a lecture or more raging accusations. House remained silent, though, with his hands clasped before him on the desk and allowed him to continue.

"I shouldn't have gotten so angry with you," he explained. "You were just trying to help me out, albeit in an admittedly unorthodox way."

"So you're not mad at me anymore?" House asked.

Wilson shook his head. "I waste enough time fighting with you as it is. No sense in prolonging it just to be stubborn. Besides, I wanted to thank you."

House's brow wrinkled in confusion. "For what?"

"For setting me up. I thought about it a bit and decided to call Robert yesterday. We're having dinner on Friday."

"Robert?"

"Smith. The banker whose profile you gave me."

Oh. That guy. "You're actually going out with him? I thought you didn't want anything to do with the people I picked out for you."

"Well, he seemed nice when I talked to him on the phone." He paused. "You're not invited, House. Don't show up at the restaurant like you did when I was eating with my parents."

House shot him his best innocent smile. "Now why would I do that?"

Wilson stood and walked to the door. "Just mind your own business for once. I'll tell you about it afterwards."

"Fine."

"See you, House."

I told Wilson I wouldn't show up to the restaurant, so I won't. Now the question is how to be there without actually _being_ there. I need eyes in that restaurant. Wilson won't ell me everything that happens on his date, so I need someone to spy on him for me. Chase and Cameron have no reason to do what I say, and Cuddy is completely out of the question. Foreman simply won't do it, and Kutner not only stands out too much, but he's also bound to screw it up somehow. That leaves Taub and Thirteen. They both blend in pretty well in a crow. [Hell, you can't even see Taub.] It's better for them to go in a pair so they don't look suspicious. I hope Mrs. Taub doesn't mind.

Step 1: find out the name of the restaurant and the time of their date. Step 2: I don't know yet. I'll figure that out later. Pain levels 7.


End file.
